


To Be Brothers

by Mademoiselle_Milly



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Hurt, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:54:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3407942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mademoiselle_Milly/pseuds/Mademoiselle_Milly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long lost sister arrives on the scene. Whilst brother and sister reconnect the other three musketeers learn what it means to be a big brother to a strong-willed little sister. Can they keep her out of trouble?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still going to be doing my other fic but this idea sprung into my head a few weeks ago and it has more of a plot to it. Hope you enjoy ~

The garrison was not unusually quiet for an early Tuesday morning and neither was it unusual for Aramis to be strolling towards the garrison at such a time. After slipping out of the window of Lady Le Mieux's bedroom to narrowly avoid her drunken husband he had stopped by the patisserie before heading back towards the garrison for morning muster. He was taking his time though, meandering slowly through the city, admiring it's beauty as the sun rose and cast it's light through the streets of Paris. The working people of Paris had already begun to stir, setting up market stalls and opening bakeries, the streets would not be this quiet for much longer and that was the only thought that spurred Aramis into a quicker pace. He'd rather not get stuck in the crowd if he didn't have to. He was just rounding the corner to the garrison when... _SMACK_.

Aramis looked down at the girl who had ran into him who was now fumbling with words of apology. "I'm sorry sir, so terribly sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going I just. I'm sorry, I really -" 

"Hey, woah slow down." Aramis shushed her, putting a hand on her shoulder and bending his knees slightly so he could look her in the eyes. "I'm fine. I'm made of stronger stuff than that." He flashed her an easy smile in an attempt to reassure her. She was young, he noticed, not a child but surely not past her teenage years yet. Long, dark brown hair fell loosely past her shoulders in small waves, her dark eyes almost matching the colour of her hair and olive skin tone. He had seen that face before but couldn't quite place it. When the young girl relaxed and nodded at his words he spoke again. "Mademoiselle, where are you going in such a rush at this hour?" The young lady seemed to hesitate for a moment before answering the question. 

"To the musketeers garrison...I'm looking for someone." She said almost nervously, fingers reaching up to play with a few strands of her hair as she dropped her gaze from Aramis' who had raised an eyebrow in curiosity. 

"Well you are in luck mademoiselle, for I am a musketeer myself." He grinned, plucking his hat from his head and sweeping into a bow. "Aramis at your service." 

The young girl's mouth dropped open slightly as she returned her gaze to him, eyes landing on his pauldron as he bent at the waist. "You're a musketeer?" The young girl murmured, casting a glance over her shoulder as she looked to the garrison. "I wasn't sure if the rumours were true or not..."

"Rumours? Pray tell, who is it you are looking for?" Aramis queried, keeping his tone light despite his growing curiosity. 

"Charles...I'm looking for Charles D'Artagnan."

"Ah well, that I can certainly help you with. He is a good friend of mine. Follow me." Aramis offered the young woman his arm, placing his hat back on his head as they made their way back to the garrison. He decided not to pry for more information, if she wanted to tell him why she was looking for him then she would. But for now it was her own private business.

"He is a friend of yours? Is it true he's a musketeer?" The young lady piped up as they walked arm in arm, brown eyes glancing up at Aramis. She must have meant something to the young man, otherwise why would she be so interested in his occupation. 

"Of course! One of the best. Now just wait here and I'll go find him." Aramis told her as they reached the gates of the garrison, not wanting her to trail behind just in case she was someone d'Artagnan wanted to avoid. Not that it was likely...but damn he should have taken the girls name. Thankfully he found his three brothers seated around their usual table, having just finished their breakfast, Porthos and d'Artagnan talking animatedly whilst Athos looked on. "I hate to interrupt you gentlemen but this young man has a visitor." Aramis stated as he came to a stop by their table, all three casting him a look before Porthos gave d'Art a nudge with his shoulder. 

Frowning, d'Artagnan looked up to Aramis. "Who is it? Constance?" 

"Afraid not, though it is another pretty young lady." Aramis stated with a smirk before turning and heading back to the gate, the others, Athos included, rising from their seats and following, all equally interested in who was visiting at this time. Though neither of them were ready for the display that was about to take place.

"Fleurette?" D'Artagnan said hesitantly as his eyes fell upon the familiar figure before him. She turned upon hearing her name, taking her eyes off of the buildings around her and focusing on the man she had come to see. 

"Charles!" She replied with a grin and before she could even make a move towards him she found herself enveloped in his arms, her own arms wrapping around him and squeezing tight. It was then that she let the tears slide down her cheeks, burying her head into his chest as he continued to hug her. 

"You're alive, I can't believe...how are you here? How did you find me? Oh Fleurette." D'Artagnan murmured, finally pulling away from her, moving a hand up to wipe the tears from her eyes. The others looked on, curious but silent in a bid to allow them as much privacy as possible. It was then that d'Artagnan looked to them, his hands still resting on Fleurette's shoulders, his own eyes shining with tears which threatened to spill over. "This is Fleurette...my sister." All three of them raised an eyebrow and yet still did not say anything, the girl was still crying after all. "Come, lets sit and you can tell me what happened." 

Fleur could only nod, sniffing as she tried to stop herself from crying even more. It had been a long time since she had seen her brother and she found herself overcome with emotion, enough so that it made her hands shake and her voice wobble. "I heard you were here and, I, I had to. I'm sorry. I missed you and papa so much. I could not find you before." The young girl hiccuped, trying to control her breathing as she spoke but with little success.

D'Artagnan shushed her once more, rubbing her arms as he guided her back to their table, the others flanking the two of them as they made their way back to the seats. This was certainly not how he'd thought his day would start, and he was glad for it.


	2. Explanation

With Fleurette seated, D'Artagnan could start to question her, albeit lightly. It had been years since they had last seen each other and it wasn't due to their own wrong doings, neither of them. The musketeer knew part of the story, the first half, he knew that his twelve year old sister had gone missing and had since never been found. He just didn't know where she had gone, there had been rumours and they had search but nothing concrete. Nothing he or his father could follow.

Fleur still sobbed lightly, moving a hand up to wipe the tears that were still falling from her eyes, her embarrassment catching up to her when she had literally broken down in front of her brother and his friends. This was not a good first impression now was it? Sniffing, she tried to steady herself, calming her breathing and readying herself for the questioning she was sure she was about to receive. He needed to know that it was not her fault, that she would never abandon her family if she had a choice in the matter. She was about to open her mouth and shakily begin her story when her stomach rumbled, loud enough for all four men to hear it. 

"When was the last time you ate? Nevermind, that doesn't matter right now...Serge!" D'Artagnan called out to the old chef as he spotted him walking through the courtyard. Serge lifted his head and walked over to the group, one eyebrow raised as a silent enquiry to what the youngest musketeer wanted. "This is my sister, she's missed breakfast. You wouldn't be able to fix her something would you?"

At this Serge's expression softened, glancing down to the young girl whose eyes were obviously still rimmed with tears. "'course I can. You just come along with me now an' we'll have you full in no time." He tilted his head toward the kitchen, smile spreading over his face whilst he waited for her. Fleur turned back to d'Art for reassurance before nodding her head and getting to her feet, following Serge through to the kitchen. 

D'Art waited until she was out of sight before sighing and slumping down onto the bench, his movements followed by his fellow musketeers. "So...that was quite the reunion?" Porthos started carefully, none of them wanted to push d'Artagnan for too much information but it was a curious situation and perhaps they could be of some help. 

Another sigh came from d'Artagnan before he began his story, eyes flickering between them as he spoke. "Back in Gascony, it was me, my father and Fleur. Me and father would work the land and deal with the farm whilst Fleur would go to the market and pick up what we needed. She's good at heckling. One day...she never returned from the market, me and father spent days...weeks looking for her but she was nowhere to be seen." He paused in his story so he could stop his voice from shaking, his eyes moving away from the faces of his brothers. "She was twelve." He murmured, the admission making Aramis take an audible draw of breath, reaching across the table to put a hand on the youngsters wrist. "And you don't know what happened? She just vanished?" He enquired tentatively. 

"No, we heard rumours that men had been in the area, taking young children for work. We assumed that was her fate but no amount of searching would have found her, nobody could tell us anything or give us any kind of clue." He shrugged helplessly, his gaze meeting Athos' who was clearly burning to ask a question. 

"How old is she?" It finally came, d'Art's lips pursed into a thin line before he answered. 

"Fifteen. She's not far from her sixteenth year." He remembered the date, of course he did, why would he forget? Just because she had been presumed lost, perhaps dead due to having a tongue as equally sharp as her brother's, didn't mean he would forget her so easily. He had missed her terribly and to have her back in his life...it was a lot to take in. 

It was then that she re-emerged and suddenly the resemblance was uncanny to all who sat at the table. Her hair a similar shade, almost matching the young musketeers, the same as her skin tone and eye colour. They had thought the Gascon boy to be slim, well she was far leaner and shorter in height, much shorter, only a few inches over five foot if that. They had not yet seen much of her but it was obvious she had survived, not that they quite knew what yet but survival was clearly another d'Artagnan quality. Something they were all glad for. 

Clutching her bowl of soup and bread, Fleur hesitated before sitting down tentatively next to her brother, not yet touching the bowl in front of her before she received permission. Noticing she was waiting, d'Art nodded his head and watched as she took small mouthfuls and tiny bites of the bread, trying not to seem greedy despite her rumbling stomach. She didn't want these men to think she was some sort of animal...but she was terribly hungry. "Tell me. What happened? Me and papa, we heard rumours of men...taking children."

Fleur felt her resolve crumbling once more, her lower lip wobbling as she threatened to cry once again. But she couldn't let that happen, she wouldn't, she'd already cried once today and there was no time for more tears, she was stronger than that. She'd proven that much already. "The men...it's true. I was coming back from the market when they grabbed me..." Taking a shaky breath she continued, well aware four pairs of eyes were on her despite the fact she was staring into her soup bowl. "I ended up with a man on the other side of Paris, I just cleaned for him and cooked, I was never allowed outside the house. If I tried to run or answered him back he'd hit me. If anybody asked about me he'd tell them I was his niece." An angry grunt escaped Porthos, causing Fleur to startle slightly, relaxing when she felt d'Artagnan's hand on her shoulder. "He told me you were dead...you and papa."

D'Artagnan was unable to say anything, anger obviously boiling under the surface. Aramis took note and decided to prompt her for a little more. "Mademoiselle, how did you escape? If this man is still out there-" "He's not." She cut him off quickly, eyes flicking to his face quickly and recognising his surprised expression. "He's dead." 

The four of them exchanged a look but it was Aramis who continued. "And you're sure of this? How did he die?"

Drawing a deep breath she decided that telling them would be the best course of action, maybe they would show her mercy, maybe they wouldn't but at least she would not be carrying the guilt around with her for the rest of her life. "He said...he said as I was nearing sixteen that I should start...serving him in his bedchamber. I said I didn't want to, I told him I wouldn't do such a thing. He said I was his servant and that I was there to _serve_ him. Then he started to try to force himself on me and I couldn't, I couldn't stop him and I didn't want to and I was scared and so I managed to grab the dagger from his belt... and I stabbed him." Tears began to flow again and her shoulders shook a sob erupting from her chest before D'Artagnan pulled her fully into his arms, whispering words of comfort in her ear. 

He looked over at his brothers, each of them wearing the same shocked expression. Not so much that she had killed him, they thought she had done well to not kill him before the incident she described. But more that such a petite young girl had been able to manage such a feat. Then again she was related to d'Artagnan. "I know it was a terrible, terrible thing, I'm sorry."

"Fluerette, hush, hush, their is nothing to be sorry for. I am glad you did it. He deserved it." At his words Fleur stopped crying abruptly, still sniffing as she pulled away from his embrace.

"You...you're not going to arrest me?" Fleur stuttered, wide eyed as she looked from her brother to the other musketeers.

This time it was Porthos who had something to say, a grin spreading it's way onto his face. "Arrest you? I think we'd rather give you a medal!"

Athos shot him a look before looking towards Fleur, not exactly wanting Porthos to encourage violence but he could understand the desperation of her situation and could feel his stomach tighten as he thought about her plight. "We should move to d'Artagnan's room where Aramis can take a look at your injury." Athos nodded towards the blood which had begun to spot on the side of her dress by her ribs. 

" _Mon dieu_ , Fleur you did not say you were injured!" D'Artagnan exclaimed, tilting his head so that he could look at the spots of blood Athos had pointed out. It was this that caused the others to laugh, even Athos wore a grin.

"Ah, this coming from the man who _always_ informs us of his own wounds." Aramis laughed as he stood up, walking about the table to offer a hand to the young Fleur. 

The others followed and rose with him, Fleur taking Aramis' hand and pulling herself to her feet. "He is to look at my wound? But I would have to...unlace my dress." She looked at the other four, unsure of how she should proceed. She did not mean to offend the kindly musketeer but...it was strange. 

"Alas, the matron will be gone until the afternoon and Aramis here is the best medic out of the whole garrison." Athos offered an apologetic smile, it was a lot for her to take in her was sure.

"I would not look if I didn't think it was necessary mademoiselle but I assume you have wrapped the wound and it has still managed to leak through your dress? I would like to take a look if you would allow it." Aramis implored, bending at the knee slightly again so that he could look her in the eyes. 

Slowly, Fleur nodded her head, once again her gaze flickering to d'Artagnan for reassurance before looking back to Aramis with an uneasy smile. Smiling broadly in return, Aramis took her arm again as the others lead the way to d'Artagnan's room, the young Gascon boy occasionally looking back to give his sister an assured smile. He could keep her safe now, she was alive and she was well, or at least as well as possible. He would never let her out of his sight again. 


	3. The Poisons

With Fleurette seated and Aramis gently peeling back the slightly sodden bandage, the other three musketeers placed themselves around the room, d'Artagnan hovering near the bed on which Fleur was sat. Aarmis finally hummed as he peeled back the last layer of cloth, revealing a rather angry looking slash wound about three inches in length, though thankfully not too deep. It was bleeding and leaking some puss which caused Aramis to tsk as he reached behind him to take up a bowl of water and clean piece of cloth. Before he could start a voice chimed in, obviously having noted the look on his friend's face. "What is it? Is everything alright?"

Aramis raised an eyebrow over at d'Artagnan before casting a glance to Fleurette, reassuring smile upon his features. "Everything is just fine. Though this part may sting a little and I fear the wound may need stitches, though only a few. Have you had stitches before, mademoiselle?" Fleur simply shook her head and murmured the word "no" before looking to d'Artagnan once more. In an instant he sat beside her, taking her hands in his own as whispered words of encouragement whilst Aramis wiped the wound clear of blood and puss. 

"Athos, I need the wine." Aramis stated as he finished cleaning the gash. He'd also noted that the girl's ribs were poking through rather obviously but he decided to keep the observation from d'Artagnan, with a week or two of good food she would be looking far healthier and there was no need to worry the young man further.

"Are you sure, Aramis?" Athos actually looked concerned as he plucked a half empty bottle of wine from the table nearby, hesitantly proffering it to the medic, a skeptical look upon his face. Not that he doubted the musketeer's ability, more so the girl's pain threshold. Treating soldiers was one thing, treating young ladies was another entirely. 

It was once again down to Aramis to reassure the occupants of the room. "Our young patient here has done very well to wrap the wound and has kept it as clean as possible. However, it may be infected and needs cleaning properly and sealing up." He stated with a sterner tone than before, taking the bottle from the older man before actually deciding it was best to offer Fleurette a drink first. "Take some, it will help with the...discomfort."

After the girl had managed to drink what d'Artagnan instructed her to, he pulled his sister into his arms, holding her close to his chest whilst Aramis started his work. The wine splashing onto the open wound was met with a whimper, Aramis apologising all the while before he threaded his needle and began his stitch work. Porthos stood and rested a hand on the girls shoulder, his heart aching for her as she whimpered and cried lightly into d'Art's chest. He had to admit, she was holding up better than he did when it came to stitches. Finally the horrible task was done and the wound wrapped once more, d'Art placated his sister, encouraging her to lay in his bed and take the chance to rest. 

Sniffling, she did as he requested, grabbing his hand as he went to stand up, causing him to instead crouch down beside the bed. "What is it?" He asked her softly, reaching out to wipe the tears that still fell from her eyes. 

"I can stay here can't I? In Paris with you? As much as I would like to see papa I do not want to travel back to Gascony just yet." She managed a small smile at her brother, desperate not to seem like a complete wreck. Hopefully he would want her here for a little while longer, she wanted to get to know her brother once again.

D'Artagnan could have sworn his heart stopped the moment she mentioned their father and he had not missed the collective intake of breath around the room, belonging to his fellow musketeers. Of course, how could he be so stupid? There was no way for her to have known that he was the only family that remained to her. And this was certainly not the time to tell her. "We will discuss it later, I promise. Now rest, I'll be back to check on you soon." D'Artagnan managed to return her smile but only just, pressing a kiss to her forehead before following the others out the room. He could feel the weight on his shoulders almost double as he realised the severity of the conversation he was to have with her later. 

Sensing this it was Porthos who spoke up once the door was closed. "She'll be okay ya know. Seems to be a tough little lady." He reached out and put an hand on his shoulder, though he knew what was reeling through their youngest's mind.

"How am I supposed to tell her?" D'Artagnan asked them sorrowfully, casting a glance back to the now closed door. 

"You tell her the truth, you can not keep it from her." Athos stated in his usual manner, although his voice a softer tone than normal. 

"We'll look after her." Aramis assured, grin working it's way back onto his face before Porthos cut in.

"Hey you, no getting ideas, she's fifteen." 

With a mock, shocked expression Aramis looked up to his friend. "And why have you directed that at me?" Porthos only answered with a raised eyebrow, causing d'Artagnan to smile slightly. "In all seriousness though, you are our brother and she is your sister which makes her _our_ sister does it not?" 

"For once he's actually right." Porthos snorted before darting backwards in order to dodge Aramis' flying hand. 

"Right, I believe we have some work to do this morning." Athos eventually piped up, though he had been quite content to watch the short exchange between the two musketeers, as was evidenced by the faintest of smiles on his face. "And then perhaps we can visit the patient at lunch." With that he turned on his heel and made his way down to the courtyard of the garrison, the others trailing behind in higher spirits than they had been before. 

As they walked d'Artagnan contemplated just how lucky he was to have brother's as good as them and now how lucky Fleurette would be to be accepted into the fold. "Thank you guys." All he got in return was a smile from Aramis and Porthos, though he was sure Athos was smiling as well and in truth, that was all he really wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so that was a slightly shorter chapter but with the intro's done I can now skip ahead a little and get to the real juicy bit of the plot! Hope you enjoy!


End file.
